Finally, after the many headaches, delays, and extraordinary expenses to build this damned church in Ishalem, Soldan Huttan felt satisfied, even victorious. For all the challenges and annoyances this grandiose project entailed, he was nearly finished with the task. The church was huge and ostentatious, a monument on the holy city’s skyline. Exactly what the soldan-shah had wanted.
More important, he’d beaten his rival, Soldan Vishkar. On the other side of Ishalem, Vishkar’s sturdy church was half completed, some of its minarets still only frameworks cocooned in bricklayers’ scaffolds. Huttan’s carpenters and stonemasons had far surpassed those accomplishments. He had ordered his crew leaders to use any means (even unethical ones) to get the job done with as much speed and as little expense as possible.
And it was only fitting, since his beloved wife Kuari—may she rot from within!—had just been named ur-sikara. Huttan couldn’t believe the choice. How had she managed it? Surely the church of Urec had better candidates than that stubborn, abrasive woman?
Still, the selection granted him a great deal of political capital. Even though their marriage had been officially dissolved (alas), due to her new position Soldan Huttan would hold additional clout. Perhaps he’d finally be able to annex the weak territory of Yuarej and expand the soldanate of Inner Wahilir. Once his great church was dedicated as the new home of the ur-sikara, Huttan would be in an excellent position to ask the soldan-shah for such a boon.
By now, cautious and kindhearted Vishkar must regret wasting so much time developing blueprints and plans, consulting with Saedran architects (who didn’t understand the first thing about the Urecari religion—how inappropriate!). Huttan had found it much more expeditious to spread a few bribes, and his church would be ready for the soldan-shah’s arrival, in time for the revered ur-sikara to be installed in her new residence.…
As morning light softened the tiled window arches, Huttan walked through the church’s cavernous main chamber, which was supported by dozens of pillars, all colorfully painted (rather than tiled, which took longer and cost much more). In his counterpart church, Soldan Vishkar had employed a veritable army of mosaic artists to assemble beautiful colored tiles, but Huttan convinced himself that the frescoes were more vibrant, and certainly less labor-intensive.
Hundreds of workers stood on scaffolds in the church’s vault, painting events from Urec’s Log. Up on the top platforms, the less skilled painters produced clumsier images; the colors had to be bright, the figures generally recognizable, but the details didn’t matter, since worshipers far below would not be able to see them. High up on the great eggshell-domed ceiling, the soldan assigned the least skilled apprentice painters.
Huttan raised his voice so that his words echoed in the huge chamber. “The soldan-shah and the ur-sikara will be here soon. In the name of Urec, give me your best work—and your fastest! Ondun will surely punish you if we don’t finish this church on time.”
The other soldan would be forced to attend the celebration and eat his own shame, while Huttan smiled with superiority. He couldn’t wait.
Servants swept the tiled floors. Each morning the workmen arrived to find that a layer of dust drifted down from above, trickling out of joints in the arches, cracks in the ceiling—more than just the hanging fog of construction dust and plasterers. His chief builder assured him that the enormous church was merely settling.
One of the apprentice painters, a harelipped young man from Sioara, hurried up to Huttan, chattering enthusiastically. Previously, the young artist had gushed his thanks, lisping all the while, for the opportunity to paint in this wondrous church. Now, however, the artist’s earnestness was tinged with alarm. “Soldan, the dome has many new cracks this morning. Several are wider than my fingers!” He held up a splayed hand, as if Huttan didn’t know how wide a finger was.
When he squinted upward, the soldan could see a spiderweb of black lines tracing the inside of the main eggshell dome. He grimaced. “It must be from those men pounding from above.” Dozens of roofers had been crawling over the outer dome, applying lead sheets to protect the surface. For a while the lead plates would gleam like brushed silver in the sunlight.
“But we can’t continue our painting,” the young apprentice explained. “The cracks are too wide.”
“Then take some plaster and fill them!” Huttan hated to be responsible for tiny decisions, but he realized this young man had no authority to do anything. “We can’t let any flaws be visible for the soldan-shah when he arrives…or my dear wife, of course.”
Workers scurried across the floor with hods of wet white muck, and the boy artist scrambled up the scaffolding like a monkey, as if he needed to supervise the plasterers. Men began to raise the first batch of plaster on ropes and pulleys suspended from the scaffolds. As he watched, Huttan pondered the cost of each load of plaster, each layer of bricks, each roofing sheet of lead. He would be relieved to have the spurting wound on his treasury plastered as well.
He crooked his index finger and raised it in the sign of the Unfurling Fern. “For the glory of Urec,” he mumbled.
As if Ondun Himself heard the unintended mockery in Huttan’s voice, a thrumming began in the spacious main chamber, a deep groan that emanated from the walls, the support pillars, and the dome overhead. Workers paused in their rushing about and began to mutter. A whisper of fear flew like a phantom around the chamber.
Two ceiling blocks dropped out of the dome and fell to the ground, shattering on the marble floors, wrecking the tiles and leaving widening cracks in the hemisphere above. Huttan looked up, furious at the damage. “Get crews up there and fix that gap right away! Now we need tilers to repair the floor.”
Instead of obeying him, though, the workers fled. The high scaffolding shuddered, and the soldan realized that the church walls and support pillars were shaking. He suddenly wondered if an earthquake was striking Ishalem, like the one that had recently destroyed Arikara.
The jagged cracks in the dome grew like living things. The nearest scaffolding toppled forward and collapsed. The harelipped young artist fell, screaming; he landed on his head on the hard tiles, and the scaffolding crashed down onto his body. More painters dropped like overripe fruit from above.
Huttan turned to flee. An archway collapsed and blocked the church doorway. In a shrill voice, the soldan cursed his inept workers.
* * *
Kel Unwar had just climbed to the top of one of the new watchtowers erected at regular intervals along the seven-mile canal. The waterway was a landmark of Uraban engineering ability and strength, but it also created a defensive vulnerability: yes, Uraban warships could sail from the Middlesea—but enemy vessels might attempt to fight their way through from the opposite side.
Kel Unwar had to prepare for every eventuality, though he felt soiled whenever he tried to think like the enemy. There was no end to the evil and treachery in the hearts of Aidenists.
These watchtowers were only the first step in the defenses. They would be manned by archers and equipped with small catapults to attack any encroaching ships, but even that did not satisfy him. Unwar had many innovative ideas about how to keep the canal safe.
From the watchtower platform, where sentries would be stationed at all hours, day and night, he gazed along the silvery channel. Merchant ships entered from the Middlesea and cruised past the beautiful buildings. The functioning canal was a marvel.
What caught his attention now, however, was Soldan Huttan’s church of Urec, in which the ur-sikara herself would soon preach. Unwar saw dust rising from it, saw the large walls moving. Tiny figures raced about like infuriated ants.
The dome fell inward. Minarets toppled like felled trees. Gouts of dust and smoke billowed up. Seconds later, an attenuated rumbling reached his ears, but he was much too far away to hear the screams as the entire church collapsed.